


Little Hands

by rivlee



Series: The Long Way Home [6]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donar is left to mind a group of children. Of course it results in axes. Part of the <i>Long Way Home</i> 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pameluke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/gifts).



> For a tumblr prompt from Janoda.

“Why must I watch the brats?” Donar asked. He was a fucking warrior, a trainer of fighters, and they had him watching babes barely able to keep from messing their breeches. 

Marina glared at him as she pulled on her cloak. “Were you able to speak perfect Greek surely they would send you. Seeing as how all you can do is wave your little axe at them, they send me.”

She pointed to the group of children. “They better all still be alive and well when I return or there will be consequences.” She gave him a glare which allowed no argument.

Donar was never one to bow his head to someone below him but he’d seen Marina smash a man’s face in with a rock. She was no mere child-minder, despite her innocent claims. 

There were only five children to watch, some already orphaned by the war, others enslaved since birth. Donar did not know what he was to do with them. He barely knew his own letters nor was he capable of teaching them to such young minds. 

“I suppose I can show you the grain hold,” Donar said. 

One of the older children, a thin boy with long, gangly limbs, scoffed at him. There was a doubtful expression in his golden eyes. “I do not see Nasir welcoming us trampling through the grain hold and letting even more vermin inside.”

“What is your name boy?”

“Seti,” he answered. He did not drop his head, chin remained held high, and he met Donar’s stare without reluctance. All the children looked at him like that, pride and defiance in their eyes.

What had Marina been teaching them?

One of the girls stepped forward. She wore a patchwork dress and sandals held together by rope. She looked up at Donar and motioned for him to crouch down. He knew he shouldn’t suspect a small girl but that close, she could bite him.

“Marina teaches us to defend,” she said in slightly accented Latin. “We are learning the bow every other day. Today is for knives.” 

Donar nodded. “And your name?”

“Thais,” she said. 

Donar patted the brown curls piled on top of her head. “Gratitude, Thais. Knives, that I can teach.”

“Or,” Seti said, “you could show us how you use that axe. There are trees outside the city walls that need cutting for kindling.”

Donar grinned. He liked the boy, even if he was too smart for good sense.

 

********************

“German, what have you done to my charges!” Marina bellowed.

Donar turned from his place of observation. Camilla and Lydon trailed behind Marina, hands covering their mouths to muffle laughter. He was surrounded by traitors this day. Agron and Nasir had already stopped by once to point and mock.

“They learn non-fatal means of the axe,” Donar said. All the children held hand axes and eagerly swung at their chosen logs. They’d have enough fire to burn for a month at this rate.

“You are to be teaching them, not using them as free labor,” Marina hissed. 

“They seem to be enjoying it,” Lydon said.

“Yes,” Camilla agreed. “Is it not good for them to learn such a skill?”

“It is. I only worry that they did not report for their mid-day ration of porridge.”

Donar glanced up at the sun and noticed its position. He grimaced. “Apologies.” He walked to the front of the work area. “Axes down,” he bellowed.

The children complied immediately. Marina had taught them well to follow such orders. Or, Donar realized, they had spent their young years knowing to answer demands without question. Had they worked beyond their own hunger without complaint for fear of repercussions? Had Donar not paid enough attention to the strain on their small limbs? He checked again and was met only with bright eyes and smiles, even from Seti who still looked at him with suspicion. 

“Go eat,” he said. 

Most of the children hurried to Marina to follow her back inside the city. Thais and Seti were the ones to linger.

“Did that meet with your approval?” Donar asked.

Thais exchanged a look with Seti and they both shrugged. 

“It is a different task,” Seti said. 

Thais held her hands out. “It is not the most pleasant.”

Donar held her tiny hands in his own. The skin there was already too tough for a child’s hands. There were calluses that had nothing to do with bow or knife play. Old ones that should not be carried by a girl just past her first decade. There were new blisters on top of old scars. Donar could’ve cursed himself. He did not think of this, of children raised within cities and not out in the forest. Those were the only children he remembered, ones from clans like his own, living deep in the woods and by the riverside. These were children who never held toy swords or dolls, raised with what little scraps of clothing and food could be spared. 

“You sleep in the same house that holds Marina and Camilla?”

“For now,” Camilla said.

“I will bring you oil for your hands, if you share it with the others.”

Thais looked insulted at the implication she would hoard such a gift. Seti merely nodded in approval.

Donar, former gladiator, proud warrior, was now reduced to seeking the approval of those who barely came to his hip. 

“Go, join the others,” Donar said. 

The both ran to catch up with the group. Donar watched them with a smile on his face. He ignored the jeers from Camilla and Lydon.

“Not a word, you stupid fucks.”

“You make a lovely wet-nurse,” Lydon said.

Camilla elbowed Lydon in the stomach. “He is only jealous that all the women of our camp don’t speak of _him_ with such praise. You appear the makings of a good father in their eyes.”

Donar forced a laugh he didn’t feel. Children had no place in war and he regretted the situations which brought those orphans to them now. His own children were a dream he gave up once he found himself in chains. He had hoped, just once, to dream of them again. Such thoughts died on Vesuvius. 

“Donar?” Camilla asked with an exceedingly kind voice. 

He threw an arm around her and another around Lydon. “Let us see to our own nourishment, shall we?”


End file.
